


Captain's Orders

by aewgliriel



Series: Even The Stars Burn [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Chair Sex, Doggy Style, F/M, Fingerfucking, Oral Sex, Roleplay, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 19:50:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1047894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aewgliriel/pseuds/aewgliriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During an inspection of the USS Vengeance, John and Anthea Harrison have a little fun on the bridge. Takes place during chapter 11 of "The Scars On Our Hearts".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Captain's Orders

The ship would, he was told, be the pride of Starfleet. He was doing one last inspection before surrendering it completely to the construction crew for finishing details.

The bridge of the _USS Vengeance_ was empty, no crew in place yet, and construction workers occupied elsewhere on the massive ship. The viewscreen was off, showing the construction box the ship was anchored inside, all metal struts and panels designed to block out prying eyes.

As his companion walked around the bridge, the man presently known as Commander John Harrison went to the captain’s chair and pressed a few controls, locking the two entrances to the bridge. Then he sank into the chair.

“It looks like it’s almost finished.” Anthea Mackintosh ran a hand along the railing as she circled the room. “It’s awfully dark in here.”

“Marcus’s choice, not mine. He wanted a menacing presence, so I designed him one.” He caught her arm as she went past. “Come here.”

She arched a brow as he tugged her into his lap. “Yes, Commander?” she purred.

He grinned to himself. His beautiful wife, known to Starfleet as just his personal assistant and not by her legal name of Anthea Harrison, always seemed to operate on the same wavelength he did. “Let’s try ‘Captain’,” he said.

“Captain,” she repeated. “Is there anything I can _do_ for you, _Captain_?”

Without waiting for a reply, Anthea slid out of his lap and to her knees in front of the chair. She ran her hands up his black-clad thighs and under the hem of his matching uniform jacket. They both wore the Section 31 black today, she in the mid-thigh-length skirt.

“You know what I want,” he told her.

“Mm. I believe I do, sir.” She unzipped his fly and tugged his pants down a little to free him from the fabric’s constraints, her deft fingers stroking the length of his flaccid member.

It wasn’t long, however, before he was rock-hard in her grasp. It never took long when she touched him. Anthea might not have known his secrets, but she could read him like an open book, could play him like the most skilled musician.

“Use your mouth on me, Lieutenant,” he ordered.

“Mmm, yes, Captain,” she said huskily. Her full lips parted and her tongue darted out to lick his length. Anthea paid special attention to the glans, knowing just the spot to make him hiss out a breath.

His fingers curled around the arms of the chair. He leaned back, enthralled by the sight of her looking up at him with her lips around his cock. She was so good at this, more talented at pleasing him than any other woman he'd bedded.

His erection was large; not too long, but wide enough that Anthea couldn't take much of him in her mouth. She stroked the rest with her fingers, running them up and down his shaft as she devoted the majority of her ministrations to the head. She'd never been able to swallow more than half of him, but he didn't mind.

He felt his lower belly tighten, and he curled his fingers in her hair, pulling her away sharp enough that she gasped.

“Enough,” he growled. “Stand, and turn around."

Anthea defiantly gave him a last, slow lick the length of his shaft, and slowly rose. She turned, as ordered. He pushed her skirt up, exposing her buttocks and the black lace panties she wore. Those definitely weren’t regulation. He rubbed his hands over the curve of her rump before pulling aside the crotch of the delicious excuse for underwear aside, stroking his fingers over her cleft.

She whimpered at his touch, breathed, “Please!”

He slid two fingers into her tight heat, thrusting them in and out with maddening slowness. He loved watching her gasp and squirm as he pleasured her. Her legs trembled as he fucked her with his long fingers; she wouldn't be able to take much of this, but making her come this way wasn't his intention.

"John," she gasped. "Unnh. Please."

"Captain," he reminded her, lightly slapping one buttock, and she made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a moan.

"Yes, Captain," she whimpered. "Oh, God."

He withdrew his fingers and licked her juices from them, his other hand still curled around her hip. His cock throbbed at the taste of her.

"What now, Captain?" Anthea breathed, looking over her shoulder at him.

He gripped both hips. She wriggled as he pulled her into his lap, his erection sliding against her wet folds.

“Hold still,” he hissed against her ear, as he steadied himself at her opening. “ _Now_ sit.”

Anthea sank down, impaling herself with a small moan. “Mmm, John.”

His hands tightened on her hips. _Not_ John! he thought furiously. But he couldn’t tell her the truth, not just yet. Soon. Soon she would scream _his_ name when he took her.

She rocked in his lap, lacking the leverage for a proper bounce. He tangled the fingers of one hand in her hair, pulling her head back so he could suck at the side of her neck, where the collar of her open jacket would cover any mark he left.

“Thea,” he growled against her neck. “Move faster.”

“Yes, _sir_ ,” she gasped.

One of the things he adored about his wife was that whatever he wanted when it came to sex, she was up for. Their sex life and her devotion were the only things really keeping him sane at present.

He slipped his hand between her thighs to stroke his fingers over her clit, finding it unerringly. He didn’t have to toy with indirect touch with Anthea. She loved it as hands-on as he felt like getting. He rubbed his middle and ring finger hard over the small nub, increasing the speed as her breathing hitched.

“Does that please you, Lieutenant?” he asked in a low purr.

“Unh- D-don’t stop!” was her breathless reply.

“Keep moving,” he ordered.

Anthea pressed her head back hard against his shoulder, rocking faster in his lap. It was good the viewport was darkened, because he had her spread shamelessly, holding her legs open with his own as he played his fingers over her vulva, alternating flicks of her clit with strokes of the flesh where he filled and stretched her.

His other hand pulled at her top, under her jacket, snaking up to cup one of her breasts. She liked, he knew, for him to toy with her nipples, tugging at the pink peaks, rolling the hard little points between his fingers. Her breathing quickened when he did just that, her hips hitching in their rhythm.

"Keep moving," he said again, voice a deep growl against her neck.

She moaned. "I'm gonna-"

"Not yet. Not until I say you can."

His fingers lifted from her slick flesh and his teeth nipped at the side of her neck, before his lips latched on to the curve between her neck and shoulder. Shoving his other hand under her shirt, he kneaded both her breasts.

"Mmm, oh-"

He was as close as she was. Maybe it was cruel, making her wait, but he didn't care. She writhed in his arms, rolling her hips as fast as she could. As he felt himself tighten, preparing for his release, he took pity on her at last, reached to where they were joined, and stroked her as hard and fast as he could.

"Now come," he ordered.

She shuddered and jerked, gripping him so tight it made him dizzy. Her ragged cry shoved him into his own climax, tearing a guttural groan from him. Anthea collapsed atop him, breathing erratic and shallow, her heartbeat a loud and staccato rhythm under his hand.

"Was that . . . what you wanted?" she asked breathlessly, when she was finally able to lift her head.

He shifted, pulling her around so he could kiss her. "Almost."

"Why almost?"

He trailed his lips along her jaw. "I prefer to watch your face as you come," he whispered.

Anthea shivered. She slid out of his lap and rearranged her clothes, thighs pressed together. "Let's go back to our ship," she suggested. "Then you can."

"What an excellent idea, Lieutenant." He stood, tucking himself back into his trousers. They would, he decided, go straight home from the airfield when they got back to London.

But for now . . .

"We should finish the inspection," she said.

"Inspection's done," he said shortly. "Let's go home."

Anthea gave a last tug on her uniform jacket, raked her hands through her hair to finish freeing it from the chignon he had thoroughly wrecked, and said, "Yes, sir."  


* * *

 

Two weeks later, as the bridge crew prepared the _USS Vengeance_ to hunt down the _USS Enterprise_ near Qo'noS, one of the hired security slipped on something on the floor and nearly fell, catching himself on the railing in front of the navigator's chair.

Alexander Marcus arched a brow. "Problem?"

The hapless man bent to retrieve a small, metal object off the floor. When he lifted it, he saw it was a hairpin.

"What is that doing here?" Marcus asked. "No matter. Throw it away."

If anyone else noticed a stray hairpin, they didn't mention it.


End file.
